The Cost of His Second Choice

He seized my wrist, and a sharp pain shot through my fractured arm.

But I didn't answer him right away. Instead, I asked, "What do you want my ring for?"

I had poured my heart and soul into designing that ring. It was meant to be the symbol of our love.

"Isabella likes it. She wants us to have matching ones."

"Just let her borrow it. It's only a ring. It barely has any diamonds; it's not like it's worth a fortune."

As he spoke, he spotted the ring on the bedside table, snatched it up without a second thought, and turned to leave.

Forgetting my broken arm, I lunged for it, my hand clamping over his. "Give it back!"

Dante glared at me, his eyes full of disappointment. "Ava, I thought you were magnanimous. When did you become so petty? Don't make a scene over something so trivial."

I said, "If you take that ring, I will walk out of your life and never look back."

Dante froze.

His hand shot to my throat. "What did you just say?" he growled, his voice tight.

"You can't survive a single day without me, don't you know that?"

"I won't allow you to leave me!"

I met his gaze, my heart turning to ice. "But Dante, you're the one who chose Isabella over me."

Dante buried his face in the crook of my neck, clinging to me like a drowning man. "It's not like that. I just feel sorry for her. She was hysterical, threatening to kill herself. I had to calm her down first; I had no other choice."

"Once she's stable, I'll be back. We'll get married, with this ring. You're the only one for me. You have to believe me."

Looking at Dante's frantic expression, I slowly nodded. "Okay."

Only then did he let out a long sigh of relief and leave, reassured.

But he took the ring with him.

I picked up my phone and called Leo, my contact in Europe.

"Can you reach out to the boss for me? I want to come back to my old position."

The voice on the other end was cheerful. "Really? Our boss was devastated when you left. He'll be ecstatic to have you back. I'll confirm with him right now."

"But... aren't you getting married? Will it be a problem if your husband comes looking for you?"

I almost made an excuse for Dante, but the thought was so laughable I stopped myself.

"He's dead to me," I said flatly. "He won't be a problem."

After hanging up, I checked myself out of the hospital and went home to recover.

Isabella's social media became a running commentary on their love story.

I saw posts of Dante taking her to galas, buying her priceless jewelry.

I saw them appearing everywhere together, a picture-perfect couple.

I saw an interview clip. Isabella, beaming, said, "After three years in the shadows, we can finally be together in the light."

Dante shared it. A moment later, the post vanished—he must have been afraid I'd see it.

As if to cover his tracks, he reposted the invitation to his mother Carmela's sixtieth birthday.

Before the wedding, Dante had made a point of telling me about it, insisting I had to be there to celebrate with them as his wife.

His mother, Carmela, had taken my hand and personally invited me.

Though the wedding never happened, I still went to his mother's home with a gift.

But when I pushed open the door, I walked into a scene I never expected.

The whole family was there, the banquet in full swing.

Isabella sat at the head of the table, flanked by Dante and his mother, Carmela. She was the undeniable center of attention.

Carmela was telling her, "You've lost weight. You must eat more."

Dante glanced at his mother. "Mamma, she’s picky. She won't peel her own shrimp."

Despite the complaint in his tone, he deftly plucked a shrimp from the platter, peeled it, and placed it right in her mouth.

I stood frozen in the doorway, an unwelcome ghost.

Suddenly, a guest spotted me. "Ava?"